


Cannabis Seeds

by demizorua



Category: Good Game (TV 2017)
Genre: (also it's from ryland's pov so he thinks some not so good things abt self harm, (don't be fooled by the title i don't even mention drugs in this), (nothing explicit it's just Mentioned as an implication), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Songfic, Trans Alex Taylor (Good Game), Trans Character, Trans Male Character, and abt himself, just as a warning)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22587715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demizorua/pseuds/demizorua
Summary: Hoped maybe I'd see a familiar face on my wayPassed by some cannabis seeds, it all smells exactly the sameI saw someone in my dreams but I don't remember their nameI guess it's just another one of those daysWhen I'm missin' everythingSoulmate AU songfic forAnother One of Those DaysbyCavetown
Relationships: Ryland & Alex Taylor (Good Game), Ryland Tate & Alex Taylor (Good Game), Ryland Tate/Alex Taylor (Good Game), Ryland/Alex Taylor (Good Game), it's technically romantic but, you can read it as not with the exception of One Part
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Cannabis Seeds

Ryland clutched his shoulder, hissing through grit teeth. His body had been especially achy recently, with the phantom pains he'd noticed becoming more and more frequent.

He'd heard the whispers at school, heard the excited murmurs every time he would flinch. How could he not have? To most teenagers, the prospect of finding your other half was the most alluring thing in the world. Kids pinching themselves in hopes of seeing a reaction, yelping in excitement at every non-existent paper cut, every invisible scraped knee.

Of course, hardly anyone found their partner this early. It was rare for a pair to meet anywhere near their 13th birthdays, typically feeling the jolts of pain for years before locating their source.

Pairings weren't even guaranteed to be romantic in nature. Sure, that's how they tended to be depicted in the media, and that's what every kid would imagine, some fairytale royal coming to sweep them off their feet in a kiss, but it didn't have to be like that. Just as often, one's other half would turn out to just be a close friend, a platonic life partner of sorts. Even then, however, a bonded relationship would often toe the line between romance and friendship.

These types of relationships ran much deeper than that.

"Your bond partner is your other half," Ryland's mother had told him, "they complete you. You're fine without them, but with them you're even better." Ryland had listened to her with wonder in his eyes, still entranced by the entire concept. "They bring out the best in you, just like your father does for me."

Some lucky pairs, so closely bonded, would dream of each other, finding clues about what their partner was like, who they were. That never happened until adulthood, though, or at least the late teenage years. Still, that didn't stop the musings of lovesick preteens, desperate to find their "true love." Every tiny jolt, every gentle ache was cause for celebration to most. It was a sign that they were bonded, that their other half, their _soulmate_ was out there. A sign that they weren't alone.

Ryland didn't get it.

Sure, he was curious. How could he not be? But ever since his 13th birthday he'd been much less enamored. The magic of a soulmate had quickly worn off, replaced with irritation, pain, and concern.

He had been so excited on his birthday, hardly moving from his place on the family couch all day, not wanting to miss any little sign from his partner. When he finally felt that first sting nearing the very end of the day, Ryland had been ecstatic. He had rushed over to his parents, his hand on his cheek, scared that it’d turn out to be a mistake. Scared that it’d fade if he wasn’t careful.

His parents had happily indulged his excitement, spending the rest of the night listening to his excited chattering. He had speculated about what kind of person his soulmate was -- what they were like and who they were -- gasping each time a new shock came through. His parents were surprised at the frequency of the injuries, but Ryland had just assumed his soulmate was having a bad day and brushed off their concerns. For the next few days Ryland was delighted at every sensation, every biting pain and, although he stopped announcing them to everyone, his heart still skipped a few beats every time.

That was three weeks ago.

The injuries kept coming with the same frequency, in the same pattern as they had on that first day. There were a few miscellaneous cuts and such during the day, and the residual achiness from previous wounds would still be there, but every night at about the same time Ryland would feel a sharp influx of pain from his partner. The injuries were always similar: sharp, wide stings on his face from what Ryland assumed was an open-handed slap, persistent and solid bruising pains in his limbs, and the occasional hard and biting punch that would leave Ryland feeling winded.

Ryland hadn’t told anyone about the injuries. He was a good observer; he knew how things were supposed to be. Soulmate pain was normally small, everyday injuries, with the occasional broken bone being as bad as it would typically get. Ryland knew what people would think if they found out, if they knew how frequent and severe his injuries were.

He may not be overly concerned with what others think of him, but if there’s one thing Ryland hates it’s being pitied.

So he never mentioned it. He learned to suppress his reactions, to swallow the urge to flinch at the sudden sparks that would shoot up his spine. If he was ever caught off guard and couldn’t catch it in time, he’d make up some excuse. As far as his friends and family knew, his soulmate was just abnormally clumsy, and it was all small and insignificant pain. They didn’t know about the constant aches that plagued Ryland, didn’t know about the soreness that kept him up at night, didn’t know about any of it.

And Ryland intended to keep it that way.

He supposed he should be upset. Forced to endure all this pain and discomfort, and for what? Maybe he should be bitter; maybe he should be angry at his soulmate for putting him through this. No 13 year old should be kept up at night, his stomach hurting both from injury and worry.

But that’s precisely why Ryland couldn’t be mad. His soulmate was going through this. His soulmate was feeling all this pain _for real_. His soulmate was _actually_ getting beat up. How could Ryland resent them for that?

No, instead of anger, all Ryland felt was concern. Worry settled deep in the pit of his stomach, becoming a mainstay resident alongside an unrelenting fear.

Ryland hoped that his soulmate would be okay, that they wouldn’t give up. Everyone had heard the stories about people whose soulmates died; they often wound up killing themselves as well just to end the pain. Ryland hoped his soulmate was okay, that nothing would happen to them. Not just for himself, but for them too.

Ryland didn't know his partner -- he had no clue who or where they were -- but he still felt a powerful protective instinct towards them, a strong desire for them to be happy and safe.

It was kind of silly to care so much about someone he'd never met, wasn't it?

* * *

**_Hoped maybe I'd see a familiar face on my way_ **

**_Passed by some cannabis seeds, it all smells exactly the same_ **

**_I saw someone in my dreams but I don't remember their name_ **

**_I guess it's just another one of those days_ **

**_When I'm missin' everything_ **

* * *

_The sky was overcast and gloomy._

_Ryland didn’t know where he was, looking around at the grassy field he found himself in. Faint beams of light shone through gaps in the cloud cover, lighting small spots in the clearing and bathing the area in a fuzzy glow._

_Ryland saw someone standing near the edge of the clearing, their back to him. As he approached, the person turned towards him. He couldn't make out their face but they seemed sad somehow, though Ryland wasn't sure how he could tell._

_As he drew closer, certain things about this person seemed to stand out. Their bushy, curly hair was frayed and wild, matching the disheveled look of their bright polo shirt. Ryland could see dark, angry bruises peeking out from beneath their clothes and, although he couldn't see their face, he could almost feel the exhaustion in their eyes._

_As Ryland stood in front of the stranger he felt a tingling sensation spread across his chest. His heart almost felt lighter just from being near them. The other person seemed to feel it too; Ryland could tell they were smiling. They seemed so bruised and battered, yet they were practically radiating joy and light._

_The two of them stood together, neither one saying a word. Just enjoying each other's presence._

_Ryland felt like he had known this person all his life._

* * *

When he woke up, Ryland felt an almost painful longing for something that he couldn't define.

* * *

Eventually, Ryland grew so used to the phantom pains that he hardly even felt them anymore. He'd all but mastered his poker face, and no one ever noticed the occasional flinch at more severe spikes of pain.

As the years went by their injuries had only gotten worse. They escalated from what Ryland assumed to be slaps and punches to what he could only guess was his soulmate being thrown into walls and pushed down flights of stairs. The pain got worse and lasted longer, and Ryland nearly always had some part of his body aching tremendously. This only served to make him more worried for his soulmate, and increased the frequency of his sleepless nights.

One day when Ryland was around 16, he felt something new. It was after a particularly bad injury -- he thinks his partner might have sprained their wrist; it felt like they had landed on it wrong. The new feeling wasn't what he'd gotten used to over the years. Ryland had come to expect sharp pains followed by soreness, a clear sign of physical injury.

This was different.

It took a while for him to even notice the change. He'd grown so accustomed to the ever-present aching from the various injuries his soulmate would gather, he hardly felt a difference at first.

It was the cold that indicated something had changed.

It wasn't an ordinary chill; that didn't usually translate between soulmates. No, this was much different than a change in weather. Ryland found himself shocked by a deep, bone-chilling cold, the type that lingers long after you find warmth again. The cold was new and different and it surprised him, bringing his attention back to the soul pains he'd all but blocked out completely.

Once he noticed the chill, Ryland was more aware of his partner's injuries again. Or, rather, the lack thereof. Discounting the full-body soreness and biting cold, Ryland didn't feel as many injuries as he had grown used to. Aside from the occasional scrape or bruise the attacks had practically stopped, which was a huge relief.

Just as soon as Ryland's mind was eased by the relative safety of his soulmate, however, another concern reared its ugly head. A few days after the appearance of the chill, Ryland was struck by a stabbing stomach pain. His first thought was exactly that; his soulmate must have been stabbed. It quickly became apparent that wasn't the case, however. The pain was more internal, attacking the pair from the inside out.

Ryland didn't feel the hunger that he assumed accompanied the stomach pain, but the familiar knot of worry and guilt that settled in his stomach affected his appetite all the same.

* * *

**_Passed that kid from chemistry who made fun of my name_ **

**_He didn't look very happy, I guess we all turn out the same_ **

**_I saw someone in my dreams, they kissed me on the face_ **

**_I guess it's just another one of those days_ **

**_When I'm missin' everythin'_ **

* * *

_The sky had grown darker, gray, heavy clouds carrying the threat of rain._

_Ryland easily found his way to the center of the field, his eyes seeking out a familiar mop of curly hair. The other person had grown just as Ryland had, both were taller, their hair longer. Their hands were both hard and calloused as they clung to one another, taking in the warmth and love that emanated from their embrace._

_Ryland allowed himself to take in his companion, picking out familiar details he would never have noticed before. The bruises remained, blossoming from beneath tattered fabric and covering their skin in a deep purple hue. Ryland noticed that his partner seemed tired, picking out exhaustion from their unfocused, featureless face. Despite this, despite all the pain he found, Ryland felt that the other was happier than before. It was as if a burden had been stripped from them, allowing their core to shine ever brighter, free, free at last._

_The other person brought a hand to cup Ryland's cheek, sadness etching itself across their aura. They seemed concerned, worried about him, something which Ryland couldn't comprehend. They must have noticed his confusion, a mournful smile blossoming clearly on their face. Their pain, their exhaustion -- which far outweighed his own -- was pushed back, buried beneath pure affection and love for Ryland and Ryland alone._

_Ryland leaned forward, gently connecting his lips with theirs in a tender, emotional gesture. They poured their souls unto the other, feelings of pain, sympathy, care, worry, and all else which burdened them combining in a bittersweet blend of raw emotion._

_As they separated, Ryland brought his hand to cradle the one on his cheek, squeezing it softly. His partner brought their foreheads together, love and longing swirling between the pair, a powerful bond echoing deep within their joined souls._

* * *

Wiping his eyes, Ryland stared up at the ceiling, feeling no desire to get out of his messy bed. His heart felt heavy and, as he lay there, Ryland brought his fingers up to his lips, marvelling at the faint tingling sensation that lingered on them. The dreams had been getting more frequent and Ryland always woke from them feeling empty and lost.

Lightly tracing his fingers up his forearm, Ryland felt the thin railroad-track cuts lining his skin, scrapes secretly inflicted under the cover of night. Usually Ryland wasn’t the one who bore the marks of injuries between him and his soulmate -- the one time he does it’s of his own actions.

The slices weren’t excessively painful, only causing a slight sting when inflicted and a dull pain until they healed, but Ryland still felt guilty about it. Most of the time he was able to stave off the urge by thinking of how much his soulmate had endured, but sometimes the emotional ache was so relentless that his impulses got the better of him. The "breakdown incident," as it had been dubbed, certainly hadn't helped.

Rolling over and sitting up, Ryland’s attention was quickly captured by a muscle-deep pain in his thigh, striking him as he shifted his weight. Absently rubbing at the source of the pain, Ryland wondered if his partner did something similar to him. For a couple years now, Ryland had felt an almost weekly prick in his leg, followed by a soreness that extended all the way to the bone. It was somewhat similar to when he’d get shots through muscle as a kid.

Ryland knew that, logically, it probably wasn't at all like his… habit. It couldn't be nearly as harmful, as _ridiculous_ as what Ryland did. Still, he couldn't think of any possible explanation for the consistent stings, other than the possibility of them being self-inflicted.

Rubbing his arm, Ryland hoped his partner was alright. He hadn’t felt any severe pain in a while, but that didn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things. They could be in a difficult situation without being physically injured -- Ryland had no way of knowing either way.

Ryland’s train of thought was suddenly interrupted by a sharp and searing pain in his chest which caused him to quickly double over in pain. He let out an involuntary cry which faded into a groan as he rolled back onto the bed. His thoughts were scrambled, unable to focus on anything but the fierce sensation slowly spreading across his upper body. The only thing his foggy mind could think to compare it to was being repeatedly stabbed in the chest, and it was worse than any pain -- bonded or otherwise -- that Ryland had ever felt before.

As he lay on his bed in agony, the only coherent thought that Ryland could piece together was that his soulmate better have a _good fucking explanation_ for this one.

* * *

**_But for now I’ll just be lonely, and my arms will feel so bare_ **

**_Dreamin' ‘bout their body 'round me, with my fingers in their hair_ **

**_It might be so easy, but I am just too scared_ **

**_'Cause I saw someone in my dreams, but they don't like me_ **

* * *

Rubbing his face tiredly, Ryland forced himself out of bed with a sigh. His soulmate hadn't been in his dream last night; that by itself wasn't unusual. What was strange was that Ryland had still found himself in the empty field, this time all alone. Ryland didn't dream usually, his bonded dreams being the one exception to this, so dreaming of the familiar clearing by himself was disconcerting, to say the least.

He couldn't help but worry, mind racing as he shuffled across the floor. Had he done something wrong? Did his soulmate know something bad about him? Had something happened to them? Ryland knew it did no good to theorize like this, but there wasn't much else for him to do.

As Ryland pulled on a pair of sweatpants he traced the invisible lines just beneath his pectoral muscles. The severe pain had faded over the months, becoming a dull throb until it had ultimately dissipated altogether. He had never figured out what had caused the sudden agonizing pain, but he figured it was fine since he still felt consistent signs from his soulmate following the incident. Life had returned to normal, the everyday pain fading into the background, and his boring day-to-day habits resumed without pause.

Well, not _entirely_ back to normal.

A loud crash sounded from the main area of the apartment, and Ryland flinched at a sharp bolt of pain that shot through his leg. Rolling his eyes, Ryland trudged out of his room towards the source of the chaos. As expected, his new roommate was crouched on the ground, collecting various articles of clothing that were spread out across the floor. Upon noticing Ryland, the other man flashed an embarrassed smile, quickly grabbing the rest of his clothes and stuffing them back in the bag he carried in.

Ryland wasn't sure why he'd invited the other man -- Alex -- into his apartment. Something had drawn him to the other, something he couldn't explain. It was strange, and probably not the best idea to let some stranger into your life because of an indefinable feeling, but Ryland honestly couldn't be bothered with all that. Alex needed help, and Ryland was able to offer it.

Nothing more than that.

* * *

“I could be a literal French hobo and I’d be fine! You’re the one that cares about shit like money and winning! Not me!” Ryland’s brain was clouded by frustration but he could still feel his stomach turn at Alex’s anguished expression. Some part of him was screaming at him to stop, to apologize, but that only fueled the fire in his gut.

“Fine! I care about those things! And, worse, I care about fucking MOBAs! That’s sad, isn’t it?” Ryland felt a familiar hotness bubble up behind his eyes, threatening to spill over, and it only served to rile up his anger. His frustration quickly diverted its attention from Alex, directing Ryland's tirade towards himself in a fiery burst of rage. “I care about them so much it makes me _fucking hate myself!!!”_

Ryland had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from blurting anything else out, his face practically on fire. He knew if he let anything else slip the entire dam would break, exposing his pitiful existence to everyone. Emotions welled up in his throat, threatening to spill forth. Ryland was barely listening to Alex’s rant, too caught up in his own head.

He did notice, however, when Alex punched the metal playground bar.

It took Ryland a moment to realize that Alex was hurt, reacting only to the explosion of pain in his own hand. Once his brain caught up, however, he realized that both he and Alex were clutching their hands in tandem.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment. Ryland and Alex stared at each other, minds both running a million miles a minute and uncharacteristically blank. 

For a moment it was just the two of them, the rest of the world fading away. The video, the humiliation, the charity event, the team, none of it mattered. They were the only two beings in the universe. Ryland and Alex were in pain.

Ryland and Alex were in _the same pain._

As quickly as it had begun, the moment passed. Like a sigh, a sharp exhale of breath, the world faded back into existence, their teammates looking on in confusion.

It may have only been a few seconds but, to Ryland and Alex, it felt like a thousand lifetimes had passed in the blink of an eye.

Alex's fingers twitched involuntarily, causing both men to flinch. Alex let out a sharp hiss, cradling his hand and, before anyone else could react, Ryland was by his side.

Something inside Ryland had leapt to the surface at Alex's expression of pain. Holding Alex almost protectively, Ryland found himself shoving his own hurt down as he'd done so often in the past. This time, though, it wasn't to hide anything. This time, Ryland had something else driving him, something more important. He never was the best at doing things for himself.

Doing things for Alex, though, that was different.

Before Ryland knew it, Alex was back on his feet, recovering from the pain and anger like it was nothing. Ryland could only watch as Alex rallied the ragtag group they had gathered, concocting a plan of attack out of the desolate nothing they had to work with.

As Ryland trailed after the whirlwind Alex left in his wake, there was only one thing on his mind:

Of _course_ it was Alex.

_Of course._

* * *

**_Hopin' in the morning I'll meet them…_ **

* * *

_The dark clouds, while still looming over the edges of the clearing ominously, had parted, making way for a bright ray of sunlight which shone through the gap, bathing the field in soft, warm light._

_Before Ryland stood his partner, their face finally visible. Alex's eyes gazed back at him, his sunny smile almost blinding._

_It's Alex. Of course it's Alex. Ryland couldn't imagine it being anyone else. Tears began to flow down Alex's face, mirroring Ryland's own, and Alex surged forward to wrap Ryland in a tight embrace._

_Alex had been through so much hardship, so much pain, so much suffering, and yet he still shone so brightly. He was bruised, he was battered, but Alex was oh so radiant, and Ryland was almost swallowed up by his light._

_Ryland could do nothing but hold Alex as tightly as he could bear to, his mind overtaken by a whirlwind of emotions. Joy, relief, sadness, sympathy, frustration, they swirled around inside of Ryland's head, battling for dominance. One feeling held strong above the rest, though, overtaking all else._

_Love._

* * *

Ryland lay still, staring blankly up at his ceiling. Taking deep breaths, he tried to quell the storm of emotion broiling inside his head, hurriedly blinking tears out of his eyes. Ryland didn't cry often, and when he did it was involuntary, usually due to pent up frustration.

He couldn't remember ever crying tears of joy.

Attempting to settle his thoughts, Ryland rolled out of bed, rubbing his face with both hands. He felt a dull pang in the right; the universe just wouldn't let him forget the events of yesterday, huh? So much had happened: the charity event, Esports People almost beating Lucid Nightmare and -- _fuck,_ Steamin' was back. Steamin' was back and he'd brought that damn video with him. Everyone had seen the video; _Alex_ saw the video, and he --

Alex.

Alex is his _soulmate._

…He's gonna have to deal with that, isn't he?

Fuck.

Letting out a strangled groan, Ryland pushed himself off his bed, stretching tiredly. Alex, his soulmate. _God damn._ Now that he thinks about it, a lot of things make sense in hindsight, knowing what he does. But like… _shit,_ man!

Ryland's phone buzzed, screen lighting up on his dresser. Trudging over to pick it up, he saw that he had 6 unread messages, 4 from Sam and 2 from an unknown number.

As he unlocked his phone to check his texts, Ryland leaned against his dresser, ignoring his conscience telling him to _stop stalling and go talk to him._ The unknown number was Ash who had somehow gotten his number from Alex, sending over a check in text and another apology. Ryland saved her number as a contact, throat clenching at the mention of Alex. He couldn't tell whether that was good or bad.

Opening Sam's messages, Ryland had to suppress the urge to sigh.

* * *

**SAM:**

so im guessing u and muppet man had a little realization yesterday

**SAM:**

took u long enough smh

**SAM:**

anyways if yall havent talked by the time i see u next i will suplex u

**SAM:**

that is a promise and a threat

* * *

Ryland shot back a middle finger emoji, shutting his phone off and leaving it on the dresser. He knew Sam was right, he had to face what happened, but that didn't make it any less daunting of a task. Ryland wasn't even sure what he was so nervous about; isn't this what he'd been dreaming of for years? That didn't stop his stomach from turning over in anxiety.

Opening his bedroom door as quietly as he could manage, Ryland snuck into the bathroom, running a hand through his hair as he stared into the mirror nervously. He had a little while before Alex wakes up; that's probably enough time to figure out how to handle this, right?

Maybe Alex wouldn't remember it. He was really messed up last night, with all the Vicodin he took. Ryland didn't want to keep anything from Alex, but it would give him more time to figure out… all this. Then again, maybe that wouldn't be the best idea; Alex would be mad, and rightfully so.

Exiting the bathroom, Ryland was no closer to knowing how to handle the inevitable conversation than he was when he entered. Trudging out to the main room, Ryland sighed heavily. He'd always dreamed of meeting his soulmate but now, faced with that very situation, he was an absolute disaster.

Speaking of which.

Contrary to what Ryland had expected, Alex was awake, sitting up on the couch while staring down at his bandaged hand. As soon as Ryland entered the room Alex's head shot up, leaving Ryland no opportunity to back out once their eyes locked. The two stared at each other like deer in headlights, neither making a move.

Slowly, Alex curled his bandaged hand with a slight grimace, Ryland's hand tingling in parallel. Clenching his jaw, Ryland was determined not to react, hoping he could make Alex think it was a mistake. He managed to keep a straight face as Alex raised his now-clenched fist, neither one breaking eye contact.

Then Alex slammed his fist down on the coffee table.

_Hard._

"Fuck!" Ryland shouted, Alex mirroring the exclamation with a cry of his own. Both men clutched at their hands, Ryland doubling over slightly as he hissed in pain. As soon as the initial wave passed Ryland's head shot up, glaring at Alex intensely. "Dude, what the _actual fuck?!_ "

To his surprise, Alex was grinning back at him, pure excitement written plain on his face, despite the pain edging his features.

"I knew it," Alex breathed, standing up slowly. "I knew it!!" Ryland watched as Alex practically bounced in jubilation, waving his uninjured hand excitedly. "I fucking _knew_ it wasn't some crazy Vicodin hallucination!! Holy shit, Ry," his gaze snapped back to Ryland, his grin growing impossibly wider, "you're my soulmate!!"

Ryland let a nervous smile slowly spread across his face, standing in the doorway awkwardly. Alex seemed like he didn't know what to do with himself, so overcome with excitement. That is, until he stopped short, his face softening in realization.

"You're _my_ soulmate…" he said, voice dropping to a murmur. Ryland was left more confused than ever, reeling from the emotional whiplash of the rapid gear shift.

Still smiling, albeit somewhat sadly, Alex made his way over to Ryland, gently taking his arm in his hands. Before Ryland could question him, Alex began to lightly trace the inside of his forearm with his uninjured hand. Ryland was hardly able to feel the gentle touch through his shirt sleeve.

"I'm sorry."

"Wh -- Alex?" Ryland was beginning to grow worried, Alex's eyes trained on his arm. "Sorry for what?"

"I'm sorry you were hurt so badly," Alex said, lifting his head. The gaze he fixed Ryland with was filled with so much sympathy, Ryland couldn't help but squirm beneath its heat.

"Alex, I -- no, that's…" Ryland stammered, moving to pull his arm away. Hot shame crept up his spine, settling in his head as a hazy fog. "No one… no one else did that." Hanging his head, Ryland willed himself to stop tearing up. This is it, this is _exactly_ what he was afraid of. How could anyone love someone who hurt _themself?_

How could anyone love someone like him?

"Ryland." Alex's voice was soft and compassionate, but didn't carry the pitying undertone Ryland had expected to find. "I know." Eyes darting up in shock, Ryland was stunned by Alex's caring expression.

Alex removed his hand from Ryland's arm, interlacing their fingers instead, his bandaged hand falling to the side. Alex kept his gaze focused on their intertwined hands, lifting them up.

“I always worried about my soulmate, ever since I was little. People always told me I was overthinking things, but I used to have this… feeling, like something was wrong. I never knew what that was until a few years ago, though." Alex chuckled quietly at that, a humorless huff of air.

"I'm sorry that you were in so much pain." Squeezing their linked hands, Alex finally turned his gaze towards Ryland, his expression brimming with sympathy. "That the world hurt you so badly that you turned to this."

Ryland was absolutely stunned. He couldn't believe that someone could be so… accepting. What did he do to deserve this? And from _Alex,_ who had been through so much?

Blinking, Ryland's thoughts lingered on that. Alex had lived through so much hardship and yet he stood before Ryland now, offering endless compassion and understanding in spite of everything.

"How?" Ryland choked out, searching Alex's face for an explanation. Alex frowned in confusion, his brows furrowing.

"How what?" Alex asked, cocking his head slightly. Ryland swallowed thickly, so overwhelmed with emotion.

"How can you be so selfless?"

Alex's eyes widened at that. Ryland could tell he wasn't sure how to respond by the way his lips parted halfway, eyebrows rocketing up. Ryland had known that his soulmate had a hard life, that they'd been through a lot, but he'd never really considered that they'd be more worried about _Ryland_ than themself. But, here he was, with Alex looking bewildered at the idea that _his_ feelings _mattered_.

"Alex. I… you've been through _so goddamn much?_ I… dude, seriously." Ryland brought his free hand to his rest on Alex's shoulder, forcing himself to look his partner in the eye. Alex looked confused, a frown still plastered on his face, and Ryland couldn't help but sigh.

"You wanna talk about childhood? Ever since I can remember, I've been feeling… so much shit from you, man. You were beat up so often and were basically _always_ sore." Alex's expression had gone blank so that Ryland couldn't read his feelings, so Ryland just kept going.

"It felt like you got, like, _constant_ hypothermia or something a while back, and I swear you must've been starving to death around then too! And that's not even mentioning all the random, probably accidental stuff -- did you get, like, stabbed in the chest a year ago?" Looking back at Alex upon realising he had looked away during his tirade, Ryland noticed that the other man looked visibly uncomfortable at that, so he quickly moved on.

"Look, Alex… I just… you've been through _so much shit,_ man." Sighing, Ryland hesitated, wanting to hug Alex but not able to force himself to do so. "And you're still more worried about my bullshit?" Ryland settled for what he hoped was a compassionate smile, squeezing their still-linked hands. "I dunno how you do it, but it's… fucking incredible."

Alex kept staring at Ryland, his expression unreadable, and Ryland began to worry that he'd said something wrong. Before he could begin to backtrack, however, he noticed the corners of Alex's eyes tense up, his lower lip trembling. A few fat tears rolled down his cheeks and Alex lunged forward, hugging Ryland as if he would disappear any second.

Ryland tensed up at the suddenness of the embrace, his hands hovering awkwardly behind Alex's back. He soon relaxed, though, hesitantly returning the gesture and wrapping his arms around Alex, his partner, his _soulmate._

Something about the hug felt so safe, so _right_ ; like they had been waiting their entire life for this moment. Ryland had never felt empty, never felt like he was missing anything, but somehow he felt even more complete in Alex's arms. Alex brought out the best in Ryland; he took who Ryland already was and made him better.

Ryland only hoped that he did the same for Alex.

Alex was the first one to break the silence, poorly stifled giggles emerging after his quiet sniffling had faded. Ryland couldn't help but let out a chuckle himself, Alex's laughter hopelessly contagious.

"What's so funny?" Ryland asked. Alex didn't pull back, although Ryland felt him adjust his head against his shoulder.

"Nothing, I just… doctors should really be clearer about how this whole pain bond thing works when they're explaining stuff." Alex sighed amusedly, chuckling quietly again. Ryland thought he heard a small twinge of guilt in his voice. "I never would've gotten surgery if I knew you wouldn't feel the pain meds."

Ryland frowned slightly at that, confused.

"Wait -- surgery? Surgery for what?" Pulling away from the hug, Ryland fixed his concerned gaze on Alex. "It was on your chest -- did you get, like, heart surgery??"

Alex laughed again, his face scrunching up in mirth. Shaking his head, he fully stepped back. Ryland found himself mesmerized by the bounce of Alex's curls as he moved his head.

"No, it, uh…" Alex stammered, and Ryland shook his head, banishing the distracting thoughts from his mind. Alex was fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, nerves getting the better of him. Inhaling sharply, he lifted the garment, exposing his chest up to just above his ribs. Two parallel scars, healed but still fresh, ran along the underside of Alex's chest, exactly where Ryland's pain -- no, _their_ pain -- had been localized. "It was cosmetic," Alex explained, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

Ryland looked up at Alex's face, noticing that the other man was shifting his weight back and forth, seemingly unable to stand still. Alex was still smiling but there was a nervous undertone to it, his bright eyes sparkling anxiously.

"That…" Ryland began, lightly tracing the invisible path on his own chest that mirrored Alex's scars, "that makes a _lot_ more sense. I thought you had, like, gotten stabbed or something."

Alex burst out laughing again, falling forward and leaning against Ryland for support. Ryland could see the relief in his posture, hear it in the lightness of his giggling, and Ryland was glad that he had managed to reassure him. Alex's happiness was as contagious as ever, spreading to Ryland like a plague and causing a fond smile to blossom on his face.

Alex leaned his head on Ryland's shoulder, his hair falling haphazardly into his eyes and his face twisted with pure joy. Ryland looked down at him, his heart soaring as he took in the pure image of the man before him. Ryland felt like he was walking on air, his gaze softening with fondness and affection.

 _This man is my soulmate,_ he thought, intertwining his fingers with Alex's again.

_Holy shit._

* * *

**_I saw a boy in my dream…_ **

**Author's Note:**

> this came about because i was reading about soulmate au prompts while procrastinating a different good game fic i'm working on and this song came on shuffle. i blacked out for a few hours and when i woke up i had written this. yes i write almost exclusively in bursts inspired by music yes it's usually cavetown i'm still valid guys don't worry i have a permit.
> 
> also i changed the lyrics just a little to make it fit the characters more. nothing big just pronouns n stuff.
> 
> go listen to cavetown he's Goode


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